Casual
by Enolu
Summary: "I want to do it with you and someone else."


_A/N: At first, I just wanted to write pure smut. Somehow, it ended up like this. Drop a shout-out, don't be shy._

X

He's thrusting into her, deep and slick, and she's panting in their heat, moving in tandem with him. One of the bed's legs is a bit unstable - the frame is creaking a bit and it would be distracting, but for his preoccupation with the very cause of those sounds. On their fours, he can't see her face fully, but this way, he does have more access, and she seems to be less inhibited too. As far as he's concerned, she's being as honest as she can ever be with him, right now.

It's been a day past five years since the Orb immigration control authorities issued his permanent residence status and three days past two years since they started this. This - whatever it's supposed to be. It's probably an anniversary of sorts, even if they don't use that kind of nomenclature.

When she tries to hurry him, he raises a hand from where it's gripped in the sheets, cupping and groping her swaying, trembling breasts, feeling her twist and tighten around him. He can't go any deeper, and the sounds of their bodies slapping against each other echo in the evening, even against the crackle and hiss of the fire. The snow is swirling outside, and he vaguely sympathises with the hotel staff who will have to deal with the cleaning up, although most of the work will be done by intelligent machines anyway.

"Come on." she grits out. "Come on, come on."

The winter air is chilly on his skin, but she's feverish against him and he's burning inside her. He would like to go faster as well, and perhaps give in and lose his mind completely for these minutes. At this pace, he could go for a while more, and he wants to prolong the build-up instead of quickly bringing them to finish.

But it has to end - everything has to end, at some point. He makes sure that she comes first, then turns her to face him when he does. It's burning and thick - she moans incoherently as he spills, and she tells him she wants everything of him. He falls into her embrace soon after emptying himself, and she kisses him deeply. Her arms are around his neck, knees pressed into the small of his back, and those small fingers grip in his hair. He wants to believe that she's telling him something in all of this - he's tried so hard and so many times, but he can't let go of her.

If all this ends some day, then at least there's the memory of this.

X

By the time he visits Kira and Lacus to congratulate them personally and see their latest addition to the family, he's had enough time and practice to hide his envy and longing on some level. His godson is already in pre-school, and has grown out of reading some of the earlier books that his aunt brought for him. The boy has his father's ways, shy and curious, with his mother's bright eyes and the same smile that could break a heart.

When he'd visited, Lacus was recovering well from the birth and Kira was over the moon. His friends had conceived their children with much effort and expense - the latest studies aren't conclusive, but it appears that the second generation of Coordinators have found it increasingly difficult to have children. Not that Athrun's looking to have a family per se - not when he can't even fully have the woman whom he loves.

X

At the peace memorial ball in the Plants a few months later, he finds her relaxing alone in a corner of the perfectly-manicured, sweeping gardens of this grand old trust estate. The dinner has already begun, but there are speeches and the usual tiring formalities between each course - it's no wonder that some of the dignitaries have snuck off to enjoy the beautiful venue.

Her guards are no doubt some distance away, completely aware of him approaching her, but they're aware of this arrangement and her quick nod signals that they can speak. His own have been given similar instructions.

She doesn't rise to greet him when he approaches, but motions for him to take a seat near her. Her hair has been swept high up and her clear eyes and the ruby earrings catch the light of the lamps strung up and around them.

"Good to see you, General." There's a very diffident tilt to her chin, and her lips are dressed in glossy red - the same shade as her nails. He wonders if she knows how she looks tonight - how she'd look if she were stripped naked with that lipstick smudged on the side of her mouth and her chin. "Enjoying the evening, I hope?"

He keeps his face expressionless, even though he hasn't really heard personally from her since their last session those months ago. "Of course, Your Grace. I trust that the discussions on the accords in Switzerland went well?"

"Yes, it was a fruitful discussion. I liked my time there too. It was bloody cold, and I was mostly bundled up in wools like a mammoth. But in between, there was skiing, and other activities." Her eyes twinkle and he knows what she's referring to, and he can't help but smile too.

She'd taken and wound a scarf around his neck on the morning that he'd left the luxury log-cabin resort that she was staying at. They'd kissed over and over again, and he'd left after much dilly-dallying. It's true that he can't be by her side every day, but she's always on his mind, be it her public appearances, or their private meetings.

"How has Your Grace been since then?"

"Well enough, I suppose. The travel from Orb to the Plants is always longer than I expect. Pretty shitty that way."

He raises his eyebrows, feigning surprise as a somewhat-stranger might, although he knows firsthand that she's a potty-mouth in private.

"Now, General, you must excuse me if I complain too much - these shuttles always bring out the worst in me."

She grins at him with real humour, like they're having a meal or playing cards or a board game, or just lounging and lying in bed alone - like they're where they were for that short period of time before the Second War - like they aren't pretending any more.

They didn't plan to show up to this event together, but they hadn't had a chance to arrange to avoid each other either. It's inevitable that they're both here, because this is a commemoration of the same set of events and conflict that drew them together. They're expected to show up for these things.

"Your Grace," he says, and it's all deliberate. He shouldn't be asking - shouldn't presume that she owes him answers, but some part of him expects and wants to. "When will you be back in Orb?"

She chews her lip. They've scheduled another meeting, but it's in a few weeks. It isn't soon enough for him, and he thinks that maybe, she understands that all this isn't enough for him.

She tells him carefully, watching him, "Probably in a week, if negotiations go quickly enough. I think so, even if I'm not sure exactly when."

"Then you'll be home soon, Your Grace." He looks straight at her, and of course, she knows what he's getting at.

"Yes, General. Yes, I'm looking forward to it - I've scheduled some leave in the upcoming month too. There's - there are people - and things in Orb that I've missed."

"Very well, Your Grace."

They didn't plan to show up to this event together, but they hadn't had a chance to arrange to avoid each other either. If anything, it's expected that they're both here, because this is a commemoration of the same set of events and conflict that drew them together. Regardless of his checkered past and questionable loyalties during the wars, he's still known as a war hero. She is the Atha Emir and her country's leader - the Orb Princess.

"And you? Have you been kept busy, General?"

"Naturally, Your Grace. There aren't enough hours in a day."

As they usually do in these situations, they are civil and polite to each other, inquiring about the usual things that strangers ask each other and forget almost immediately. And yet, they speak with meanings and an understanding that facilitates their arrangement. It's bizarre, but necessary.

"Congratulations on your niece, by the way." he says.

"Thank you. I was delighted."

They had visited at the same time and met again at her twin's invitation.

If Kira and Lacus are aware of this elaborate cover, they don't say so. They haven't said so for the past three years, and he thinks that they're probably part of the pretence too.

"We should get back to the dinner." She says, rising and brushing at her silk amber gown. "They must have served the next course by now, surely."

The dress has a flowing length that the years of increasing sophistication and awareness of her own beauty and sexuality have taught her to wear and manuever. The bodice is extremely fitting and strapless, revealing a great deal of décolletage, and if she lifted her arms fully above her head, he suspects that those dusky, coral nipples would risk exposure to the evening's cool air. He keeps his face devoid of expression and his thoughts - he can plot how he'll try and meet her in her hotel later.

But they're likely on the same page. She studies him, suddenly looking very unsure. "Would you have a companion here this evening? May I invite you both to sit at the table I'm at?"

They both know that he's brought someone along. But maybe she knows him better than he knows himself.

"I'd be privileged to accompany Your Grace."

X

Shinn Asuka's name is somehow brought up when it's listed on the screen, one of the many names engraved into the peace memorial to honour the living and dead.

Shinn isn't attending today - he hasn't been around for a while, and he didn't really stay in touch with Athrun. Of course, Athrun relocated to Orb, and if Shinn is still dating Meyrin's older sister, Athrun wouldn't blame Shinn for not keeping in contact.

But Cagalli seems to notice that name, and trails off during mid-conversation to stare at the person who'd mentioned the name and pointed it out to somebody else.

"Do you know Shinn?" she says.

"Not really, but he's a classmate of my daughter's right now. She mentioned that a former fighter pilot had enrolled and was in her class, and that's why I remembered the name." The Plant minister of trade gazes at the scrolling list of names, squinting and trying to recall something. "I heard he wanted to continue his studies without the military scholarship. Such a shame too, I heard he was a brilliant pilot."

"Ah, yes." She looks unsure for a moment, and unconsciously, her eyes move to Athrun's, then away. "Yes, I'm aware of him. We reconnected after - after the Second War. He's a volunteer of one of Orb's charitable organisations under my care."

The conversation shifts on.

X

"He's in medical school now." Cagalli says, hours later and they're engaging in the casual, random conversations that they often have after these sessions.

She probably wouldn't have talked about Shinn if Athrun hadn't asked, following that brief mention at dinner. "He wants to be a doctor - told me he wanted to find a way to save lives after what he'd done and gone through during the wars."

"That's good." Athrun keeps watching her.

"I'm not sure about Lunamaria and Meyrin though." Her eyes search his, hesitant and guarded suddenly. "Don't you keep in touch with Meyrin?"

"No. There's not much to say these days - it's been a bit of time since I relocated from the Plants." He says, and it's all true. She must know what he's done and given up to be in Orb, or even here like this. She knows almost everything about him - she probably even knows that it was only a short time ago that certain sounds set him off and he was on extreme levels of sleep medication. But as with some other things, they tiptoe around any discussion.

She says, instead of pressing on about Meyrin, "I approached Shinn shortly after the Second War's truce. I wanted to - I don't know - I wanted to make amends. Apologise, I suppose."

His tone is sharper than he expected. "You don't owe him one. The wars weren't your fault."

She smiles wanly at him. "Well yes, he said the same. He apologised for what he said back then then too - we stayed in contact for a while, but then he took up a scholarship and had funding for further education."

"He accepted it?"

"After I personally requested him to." she says, head still on his shoulder and hand over his heart. "It was shortly after the truce; I don't think you'd even re-entered Orb yet at that time. Suffice to say, we have a better understanding now. He's a good kid, really."

It's strange that she thinks of Shinn as that - they aren't very much older. And yet, it's what it is. The last that he remembers, Shinn loathed Orb and those associated with its leadership and policies. For all his talent and those steadfast, brave ways, Shinn was little more than a child who saw things mostly in black and white - he had been spectacularly resentful and simplistic in his grief and coping with the loss of his family. But maybe things have changed with Shinn too.

"I expect he's more appreciative of Orb and you than before." he says, somehow goading and cynical. He isn't sure what to make of this nugget of information, or the realisation that he knows less about her than he thought.

"Maybe." She looks a bit uncomfortable, and he knows she's not saying something. "I don't know."

Maybe Shinn's slept with her. It's a possibility - he's aware that one or two of the men in the huge room of people had been her lovers. But Athrun doesn't want to think too deeply about why she's taken different people aside from him, men who can't possibly love her the way that he does, or the fact that she can easily seek comfort from anyone at any point when she isn't with him. She has, even though they don't talk about it.

There's no need to when they both already know why.

X

A week and a half later, when they're back in Orb and he's with her, they're needier than he could have imagined.

She's gasping, whining, meeting every snap of his with her body, taking him on fours, the way she apparently favours. He's wondered if it's because she prefers not to look at his face, or if it's because he can fit deeper into her.

Her hands and wrists are so small that they fit exactly into his clenched hands, and she's pulled back, like a bow, fitted against him perfectly.

"Go deeper." she demands, and he's complying, moving harder, folded over her back. He didn't even bother undressing her completely - the straps of her slip hang off her shoulders and her panties are hopelessly twisted and rub against him as he thrusts. It's fortunate that he didn't drink during their dinner, because his blood is boiling under his skin and the half-formed sounds and words tumbling and spilling from their lips only inflame him more.

In these moments, he thinks that even if they can't move forward and change what traps them, he's happy to be frozen like this with her forever. Their passion, her body, and their wild, unbridled lovemaking provide him pleasure that he can't imagine losing at this point, no matter how hollow it sometimes is. She cries out, and through his haze, he grips at her ass and says that he loves it when she's taking him, and he chokes out in his climax that he loves her and truly means it.

When it's over, he cradles her and murmurs his reverence against her temple. He's never been known to be talkative in most circumstances, but he's learned firsthand that an orgasm or a few can addle one's mind and tongue to hopelessness.

"I can't go without you for too long." she says, and she's laughing, somehow embarrassed, which is mad considering what they've been through and done together, but she looks so earnest and innocent. "I get crazy wound-up, you know? I swear, it's been terribly busy this month."

"Happy to be of service." he says wryly.

He does understand her frustration though. There are days when he's so tense and stressed that nothing else will ease him and bring undisturbed sleep. It's probably the same for her in some ways too.

If she'd once brought him to the edge with the excitement of her inexperience, she's since learned to send him over it with a control and deliberateness that's sometimes frightening to a person who tries not to need anyone. But even if he doesn't need her and she doesn't need him, he knows he wants her.

He'll always want her.

Her cheekbones are dusted with faint freckles, and her hair is spooled gold around his fingers. She'd seemed haggard from work and worn, at first, picking at the room service dinner, but for now, she's sated and rosy with the after-effects of their lovemaking.

Belatedly, he helps her lift her slip off, pulling it off her arms and head, then reaches behind her to unclasp the brassiere that he'd slid his fingers and palms under to cup and tease her breasts from. He can't help stroking and caressing at those again, depositing wet kisses against the slopes and valley of her chest. He hears her laugh, low and throaty, when he gets around to slipping off her stained silk panties and tossing those unceremoniously on the carpet.

"Cart before the horse eh?" She murmurs, settling back against him and resting her head on his collarbone.

"Haven't heard that saying for a long time."

She chuckles. "Well, you can also take that metaphor as a personal compliment."

He has to laugh - he enjoys their ribald jokes as much as she can surprise him. "I'll take any praise at this point. If you'd asked to pause, I would have helped you out of those."

"Would you have, really?" She tilts her head to look up at him, amused. "I swear, those were giving me the mother of all wedgies when you went on, but I wanted you so badly, I didn't want us to stop. Pull those off properly before you start fucking me the next time, alright?"

"Just remind me the next time then." He laughs, kissing her forehead, and then admits,"I missed you."

"So did I." Her voice is warm, and she smiles fondly, like things are within their control. "I missed you almost more than the food back here. Crazy, huh?"

"I'd say your priorities are in place."

He tilts her chin up to kiss her, beginning to deepen it. They don't mention Orb and their deceased fathers. That would be a waste of their time.

At this point, he's quite spent, but he's going to be completely bogged down with work and training out of Orb for the next week, so he figures he might as well try for another round. But then she breaks the kiss and stares up at him, eyes that molten amber. Her pulse is quickening - he can feel it.

"When I was away this time, I was thinking. I want to tell you everything. I want us to share everything."

"Go on." he says. He doesn't know what to expect, but he figures she's in one of those moods.

"See, I've been thinking of all these experiences we've had - the stuff we've tried."

He raises a brow - the last few times that she'd said something along those lines and suggested experimenting, those had involved chocolate, his tie, ice cubes, enemas, and various toys that he had no idea how she'd procured. Not all at the same time, thankfully. The clock registers that they have slightly less than five hours left. "Try me."

"Well, I was thinking - maybe - just a crazy thought, like you know." She sits them up, putting her knee over his and straddling him. She looks him in the eye, but miraculously blushes at the same time. He gazes at her, letting the sheets fall away, fitting his roughened palms around her waist, feeling himself stir again.

"I'm listening." he says, vaguely remembering that he'd also wanted to try a few things, but then he doesn't expect her next words.

"I want to do it with you and someone else."

It's like being struck across his face. He's still holding her, but he's on guard. He doesn't react fast enough to mask his face from the shock and anger.

"Is that strange? Is it wrong?"

She flinches, and it's unfair how devastated she looks.

He could ask her why, but he's half-afraid to, and he's already aware of her motivations. He's also aware of the bitterness that suddenly rears up in him, real and ugly, and the strangely familiar stab of lust.

He begins to shift her away, pulling himself out of bed.

"I don't know." he says, and his voice is so choked, he doesn't even recognise it. They ignore the heaviness of what they already know - that she seeks others from time to time, for a variety of reasons that he prefers not to dwell on. With him, and until today, she's never mentioned her other lovers and he doesn't either. He's never had to confront such issues head-on like this before.

"What more can I do -", he begins to say, but she goes to stand before him and cuts in hastily.

"No, it's not that, you're amazing, you know that." She takes his hand to slide it down her belly, fitting his fingers between her thighs.

"You know that." she says again, and there's a warmth and sincerity to her gaze and voice that he's lost in. "You know what you do to me - you know what you mean to me. You can feel it, can't you? I want you all the time - in all the ways that I can. That's why I want all these experiences to start with you. I wouldn't want to try it without you."

She's still as wet as from how he left her but he doesn't want to think about what they've cornered themselves into - not now - and moves to draw her into his arms and brings her lips hungrily to his.

He knows, suddenly, that for all their casualness and the easy rhythm they've established in comparison to their intense, youthful declarations of devotion in a past so distant from where they are now, they've foisted this pretence on themselves for too long.

"I feel the same way." he tells her breathlessly, when they break for air, and it's a half-truth. "I'd want anything that you truly want."

They settle back in bed, and if she understands what he's really trying to tell her, she ignores it. But he understands that she won't tell him that she wants only him and won't share anything or herself with anyone except him. She doesn't lie to him, not like that. Besides, the truth doesn't change, whether it was six years ago when they held each other wordlessly on a battleship, or now, when her first priority is Orb, not him, and she's currently requesting that he consciously and voluntarily share their pleasure and her body with someone else.

"You sure you can handle it though?" he says.

She says, quietly, "I don't know exactly what we can do, but I've been thinking about you watching me when we're together, like this. It's crazy, and I don't know exactly why I want it so much, but I know I want to try it with you - I can handle it."

She looks at him pleadingly, seeking affirmation like his matters at all. "Is it wrong?"

"As long as there's agreement between - between all parties, it seems fine." He doesn't know what he really means says it, but he does know that he'd turned away from her once at the cliffs in that sunset, and he knows that to spite her would be to spite himself. He doesn't really know what else to say - not when this is all they've got.

"Do you think about it too? Is it normal to think about it?"

"Sometimes, yes." He actually understands on some level, somewhat, because he's imagined her on plenty occasions being with other men - he knows she takes others from time to time. It's brought him off on a few occasions, but she was never to know that.

He isn't sure if she'd planned to ask him when their inhibitions are far weaker than those hours ago. Not that those considerations matter anymore. Regardless of his reservations, he's also curious. "Since you want to, let's try it. Just once, just for the hell of it."

"Really?"

She brightens up, radiant with their sex and his answer and his acceptance of all that she's said, and the weariness and hard flint of her expression when he'd first met her this evening is even further away. With her there, in his arms, looking up at him like this, he feels like she's trusted him with her secrets.

He tell himself that he simply can't bring himself to push her away, because he's made that mistake that once when Kira seized her from her own wedding and brought her to him, and he feels like walking away that one time broke something forever. Of course it isn't true, because they've forgiven each other for all the things they'd blamed each other for, even without saying so, but it's easier to point fingers at his one mistake than to diagnose something more fundamental.

"I want what you want." he says again. A bit dumbly, but as guileless and sincere as the day he was born. "Anything you want."

She breaks into a genuine laugh, like it's all just an inappropriate joke, and Haumea help them, he can't decide if he would rather it be or not.

She looks as young and untroubled as they once were, vivacious and chuckling with humour. She kisses him, her fingers tracing his jawline so gently, and it's so passionate and sweet, he can see exactly what it would be like if things were different for them.

But when he kisses her back, there's a strange, electrifying thought of her body bucking and writhing beneath a stranger's. It could be anyone. Maybe that tycoon he watched her attend a charity event with, or that professor, or that handsome anchorman interviewing her who kept tripping over his questions, or maybe that chancellor, or that noble he knows she carried on with last year.

These aren't new thoughts, but these aren't vague and half-formed at the back of his mind anymore. There's that vision of another man pounding into her, another pair of hands grabbing around her rear, another mouth kissing hers and fondling those full, creamy tits, fingering and tasting her pussy and ass. Maybe she would ride the others like she rides him, let them bend her over and fuck away into that body of hers. The truth is, he's thought about it often enough. And maybe she senses something, because she responds hungrily as if they weren't feeling completely exhausted and tense just moments ago.

It's no surprise that he's hard again in mere minutes, the way he usually is when he imagines her with someone else, all those times when she isn't with him. She glances down at him, eyes wide, suddenly aware of his hardness, and then her expression shifts and her lips curve, like she's changed and she's no longer that flustered, brash young girl; like she has him all figured out. Maybe she has.

"So." She says, and lightly reaches down to curl her fingers around his length. "When shall we?"

X

In a few weeks, he receives a scrambled message with a passcode, which he unlocks to read as coordinates with no other details. Knowing their usual arrangements and quite aware that she's taken an absence of leave for this week, he understands that the passcode is one of four or five different security steps allowing him into her sealed-off holiday estate.

The shuttle that he takes is his own, as with most of these arrangements, and there's some tussling and passive-aggressive negotiation that he has with the airspace controller when he enters this private island in Fiji. That specific guard hasn't been around for long, but he seems to have taken a disliking to Athrun, even if that guard must know roughly what's going on with his royal charge and the man - men - whom the Atha noble sees privately.

He lands the helicopter that he'd rented from the main island and proceeds to the sea mansion's main entrance. The estate's built on the cliffs, overlooking the ocean, but the roar of the waves below and around him could as well be silenced in comparison to his pulse.

Her guards have no doubt swept the area for the usual and have cleared off to give her privacy. It also helps that she owns the entire stretch of land all the way to the curved turquoise bay. It's just a perk of being one of the most powerful and privately wealthy persons in the world, through inheritance and her personal efforts.

As he moves up the stairs of the beach mansion, the signs of another guest scattered around enter his peripheral vision. There's a coat on the rack, and half-empty glasses of wine on the counter that he tries not to see when he takes a drink too. There's unfinished food on the dining table, and it's likely that she cooked on her own, the way they did when they took residence in this estate previously.

He moves up the first flight of stairs, slowly, then the second, and it's almost dèjá vu because he's played this moment over and over in his mind, like a hundred different permutations. In all honesty, he'd tried to keep such thoughts at bay even before she suggested this arrangement. He understands now that his efforts were fruitless.

He wants to believe that she's lounging outside with a book she hasn't had time to enjoy, or swimming in the pool overlooking the waves below. But he knows that she's in the house.

He thinks he can hear her voice as he nears a familiar corridor that he's walked in a few times before, husky and agitated, urgent and teasing, sweet and filthy.

"Please." He thinks - imagines - her to be saying. "More. Please."

But it isn't his imagination - her voice isn't just in his mind.

He'd been more experienced at first, because he'd been in the war trenches and space camps for far longer and earlier than she'd been in the deserts, and he'd been the first to show her a myriad of ways to enjoy the pleasures of sex. With some dark humour, he decides that she was a student only for the first few times.

It shouldn't surprise him to push open a door and see her lounging on the four-poster, completely naked, sprawled wide and open for Shinn's dark head to rest on her inner thigh. Her fingers are pressed into the sheets and those jet locks, and this must be the way she would look if it had been Athrun pleasuring her.

Her lips are swollen pink and wet, and she's glowing, her sensitive nipples furling stiff and reddened with her arousal, like Athrun had toyed and fiddled with those himself. Her skin is covered with a fine sheen of sweat, and she's shameless, arching herself open for another man, revealing those soft pink folds and her bud. If he concentrates hard enough, he can almost smell their arousal, sweet and tangy. He can see that the stress of her work and the worn appearance that he'd noticed on the televised broadcasts in the preceding weeks have already been replaced by this moment and the prospect of a week long vacation here.

Shinn raises himself to look up and around at him, bare and startled, because he'd been so focused and intent on her pleasure that he hadn't heard someone coming up the stairs. He looks a little older with dark eye circles, but he's still on the petite side, as compact and boyish as Athrun last saw him more than a year ago. Those garnet eyes are tense and it's like he's ready to run, like he knows that he shouldn't be here.

On the other hand, she settles back, watching Athrun, those roses still under her cheeks, delicate like the first time he took her. But things have changed since then - she's never looked more luscious and beautiful, languid in her relaxation and completely in control.

She strokes Shinn's jet hair, and brings him back like he's a pet, like every man who's pleasured her is but a pet, bidding him continue. The tall windows have been thrown open, and the salt is in the air and the waves echo with their breathing.

Her eyes are trained on Athrun's, and for all that he tries to resent her, and for all their combined flaws and their circumstances' incompatibility, she's the only woman that he'll ever truly want.

He was already half-hard at the thought of her, but seeing her - seeing her like this, with another man - is more than sufficient. He's aware that this will later stay his mind with equal parts pleasure, ruefulness, and possibly bitterness, but right now, he's never wanted to fuck her raw so much.

"About time that you got here." She says softly, her voice low and tender. "When you're ready, then?"

X

She's kneeling between them on the luxuriant sable fur carpet, taking turns to suck both of them off, her mouth making those sugary, lewd sounds against them and their cocks. They're completely malleable, like they're the ones kneeling, because they're powerless in that instant, almost-blind in seeking their pleasure, completely at her mercy.

He looks at Shinn from time to time, and appreciates the raw, physical attraction that probably drew her to a kid who'd once declared that Orb and her father were just hypocrites.

Shinn just stares back at him, over her head, expression defiant and edgy, but it doesn't detract from how milky-white his skin is, whiter with the contrast of some scars here and there. He could even be considered beautiful with his sharp-features and slimness, that soft flesh hinting at the sleek muscle underneath. But any appreciation that Athrun has is forgotten when she shifts back.

She gazes up at him, from where she's just left off from Shinn, and it's strange, seeing her hands wrapped around them and Shinn's flushed hardness near her cheek. Her lips are swollen and pink, and her eyes are a bit dazed, like she's lost. She continues to stroke him, and he angles her head and chin nearer, almost forgetting that she's supposed to divide her attentions between Shinn and him. Now that it's his turn, she parts those full, vulgar lips and gives him attention, swirling and tasting, humming and ocassionally nibling just so slightly, pushing the tip of her tongue against his opening, bringing him deeper down each time. She's good at this - knows exactly how to lick, how to sheathe him between those pretty tits and tease him with them and her mouth so that he's dripping and inflamed, exactly the way that he likes.

Apparently, Shinn's no better off under her attentions either. Shinn's obviously more nervy and can't control himself - when she lets go of Athrun, comes back and flickers her tongue under his ridge, then brings him back between her lips for another round, it's clear he won't last last. She sucks him off for a few minutes, her mouth kissing and greedy, and he suddenly buckles with a short gasp, then pulls back. Strangely, it isn't the sight of him coming all over her lovely face and the way she asks for it that makes Athrun bring himself to come too - it's the desperate twist of Shinn's mouth and the look in her eyes as she smiles up at them.

It makes him take her by the jaw, and she turns to him and parts her lips obediently and opens as wide as she needs to for his cock. He could close his eyes, be lost in the maddening rush of sensation and relief. But he watches - watches her red, glossy lips quiver when he gives her his seed, watches those golden lashes touch her cheek when her eyes close. She laves her tongue around the heaviness of him again, simply sitting back on her haunches, letting him thrust and dip and finally spill himself on her tongue and down her throat.

"I'm sorry," Shinn stammers, when Athrun's finished. He's so mortified that Athrun almost smiles. "I didn't - I didn't mean to lose it like that, I -"

"It's fine," she says softly, eyes clouded and lids heavy. She wipes the corner of her mouth with her fingers, and the pink tip of her tongue strays around the edges of her lips, like she's savouring them and the thought of what's to unfold. "Frankly, I don't mind as long as the carpet isn't ruined, and you both aren't done for the day."

"Fortunately not." Athrun murumurs, stroking at her hair and sitting back on the edge of the bed for the sake of his knees. "You were quite careful about the carpet, I must say. I'm not sure if Shinn's too tired though? You did start without me."

"Hell, no, we were just prepping - we can do more." Shinn says, and seems to revert to his usual brashness. "Give me five and we can get on with the programme."

She eyes them both appreciatively. "I'm counting on it."

X

The next few hours are a blur of their bodies and fucking. It's all so intense and strong, and in the moment and with all these sensations, he doesn't even recall any hesitation or reservations that he'd had previously.

Behind her, Shinn has prepped and bottomed her out with his hands and mouth, and now he's easing into her, moving slowly and filling her as she moans in equal parts discomfort and pleasure. But when he's fully within her, Shinn begins moving harder, thrusting up from where he's settled on the bed. She arches back, grinding against him and gasping, trying to adjust to him even as he holds her steady.

She's so raw and tight, and it feels like time's stopped when Athrun surges against her, seizing her mouth in a kiss and cupping her breasts hard, feeling them quiver and bounce with each of Shinn's thrusts, thumbing and pinching roughly at those stiff, overstimulated nubs. She loves it, and she begs for him then. At her urging, he rams into her almost too easily, feeling her tremble and stretch around the both them. It's easy not to think, when she's encasing and squeezing around him, fucking him rough like this. Then Shinn snakes two fingers into her mouth, and she sucks them, bites suddenly for Shinn to tear his hand away with a cry and thrust harder into her rear, his pants nearly as loud as her moans.

"Fuck." Shinn says. "Fuck, I don't know if I can last like this."

She pulls away from Shinn, turning a bit so that she can look at him, eyes teasing. "Better give your senior a turn back there then."

So Athrun moves to sit up on the bed where Shinn had been settled, holding her apart to enter and she's already been stretched by Shinn and leaning back to take it. She moans at the burn of his breaching her like this, and yet she sinks back and pulls at him while she's split apart. But for Athrun's control, he would have come almost immediately, because she's arching and curving herself so far back so that he can look at her face while he fucks her and feels himself add to Shinn's sopping mess.

Shinn watches them for a few moments, skin flushed with awe and arousal, and Athrun eyes him, not saying anything or encouraging him. But then Shinn remembers himself and he slides to the foot of the bed, kneeling, and levels himself to lick and nurse at a nipple. He fingers her at the same time, moaning at how wet and good she feels when he slides his fingers so deep, and Athrun knows exactly what he means. She just arches herself more, hissing and pressing back around Athrun, while presenting more of herself to Shinn.

Then a bit later, Athrun sets her on her fours and finds that he's lost, grinding and thrusting into her from behind with his cock and fingers, playing with her clit while Shinn uses her mouth. They're again bent nearly double, over the woman that he loves, and her mouth is too full for her to make more than those breathy, muffled moans when she's taking them so deep within her. Athrun thinks he fully understands why, quite apart from the wantoness of it all, that she'd asked for this.

In these hours, it's not clear who she favours more, and either of her lovers could be dispensable and replaced so easily - just like that. It's what she hinted at before - she'd wished to be freed. He'd tried to give her what she wanted - he always will. Of course, it's a bit self-serving to think that, half-formed and vague as these musings are, because he's thoroughly enjoying fucking her and watching her fuck him and another man at the same time - as he suspected he would.

Now, when she comes, she looks right at him, eyes wide and locked into his, her lips parted in a silent cry of sensation. She's his equal - or more - her hunger, ambition, her power, and her flaws. It's difficult to understand why he doesn't blame her for this, and yet, it's easy to feel like it doesn't matter if it's him or another man. He tries to hold back for the last time, but she's so warm and wet around him, and the taste of her, musky and faintly sweet, is still sharp on his tongue. The next thrust has him on the edge, and he hisses her name, but she just goes faster.

Behind her and over them, Shinn's saying something, his voice stuttering and unclear. Athrun somehow thinks of those trenches and those radio signals in the fogs, back when he was crouching in some goddamn ditch with no bullets and just a knife left, blood pounding in his ears.

He can somehow sense Shinn's close, because they're connected through her. It should be simple enough when she's so wound up, and they should be bringing her to another orgasm before finishing themselves. And yet, there's one frightening moment of clarity when he's aware Shinn would not be here unless he'd grown to love her in some way or another.

It's enough for him to break from his rhythm and he rears back and pulls Shinn off and out of her, shoving Shinn by his chest to the bed, and bringing them over Shinn in that swift, single movement, even though this wasn't supposed to happen.

A cry rips itself from his throat, even though Athrun isn't prone to much sound when he comes. Along with his lust and that feverish want of her and Shinn, there's a sudden flash of violence and rage he thought he'd exorcised along with the wars and all the therapy after those wars; all those couch-resting, ceiling-staring sessions with a post-trauma specialist for months at an end when he found he couldn't stop the nightmares.

But then she's surging to meet him, an urgency and pleading in her face, and when he's in her like this, that ugliness and rage is gone. She's his, and he's hers, and nobody else will interfere, because nobody else can. There's only a clarity and this moment wherein he just needs to take and he understands exactly why she wanted this; that he wants this too.

He shudders - he might have said something stupid and obvious during his orgasm - he sees her eyes shining with tears, and her arms are flung around his neck. Her hands are in his hair and her body pulls up against his as he lifts her further up and away from Shinn, seizing her to him.

Then she's kissing him like it's just them, like she's heard every thought of his mind, that she's heard - listened - to him telling her that he loves her, like she's always chosen him. It's like the others, like Shinn, the world, her father's burden; Orb - everything and everyone else - have just melted away in the white noise, leaving just them.

So he pushes back into her, selfish and rough, fucking through his climax and coming hard and violently in her, feeling the wetness that he and Shinn had left, feeling her burn around him like he'd never allow anyone else to. She simply accepts it - she takes him fully and deep within her, leans into him and winds those legs tighter around his waist like she needs to keep him within her. He kisses her, paints her insides fully with him and they ride the waves of their orgasm.

As a favour, and while he remains in her, for as long as he can, he reaches past her, behind her, grips Shinn and brings Shinn to completion. It's so simple, so effective and efficient, almost as if Athrun were helping himself, and the shuddering boy comes as intensely and obediently as required.

When it's over, they all fall back into the sheets, adjusting her between them. She looks at him, a small smile blossoming, and he kisses her again for good measure, before joining Shinn at her breasts.

She sighs, indulgently stroking and tugging at their hair while they nuzzle and suckle greedily at her, and they're lulled to sleep by their exhaustion, and the comfort of her warmth.

X

The salt of the ocean clings everywhere. In this resort, the wooden furniture and the balcony railings that they lean against are all slightly wavy from the ocean's warping. Below them, the jagged cliffs grin into the foamy waves, and the crashing grey-turquoise hues are wonderfully calming.

Shinn looks at him with a bit of trepidation, not really meeting his eye. Away from the haze of their ruthless, passionate fucking and the uncanny negotiation of their bodies in the same bed, the realisation of the self-harm that they'd each sought is dawning.

But Athrun has no means of condensing all that he feels or could say, and he stares ahead at the water and the misty coastline. When he'd awokened, he'd taken her again, slowly and just so Shinn could watch her ride his cock and beg for it. Then Shinn had taken his turn, while Athrun had relaxed and enjoyed the show - she had certainly given him one to watch, with her keening and moaning and her opening herself like that. They'd been just as satisfied, her body flushed and sore from being stretched around them.

Overall, he doesn't think that Shinn should have much to be hesitant about, given that all's been said and done. Yesterday's afternoon had become the night, and even that had faded easily into the morning, and then into another afternoon. He'd experienced a height of pleasure that he was surprised to discover.

Fucking them both had been easy enough - he's as human as can be, and not at all immune to the pleasures of the flesh. Even the wars couldn't stop him from enjoying sex - if anything, his awareness of their pulses, skins and every other sensation was heightened. The sensation of her stretched around him and another man will be one he recalls easily in the nights when he's alone - possibly even those when she's with him. It's just a pity that it wasn't a faceless, nameless person that she chose for this game.

"She's an amazing woman." Shinn says at some point, idiotically. He's fumbling about with his coat, locating a pack of menthol cigarettes with some difficulty. "She's always been strong - I was angry when I said those things about her and Orb. I didn't know better."

Shinn looks paler than usual, a bit dazed, even though it's been at least two hours since they left her sleeping there, cocooned in the sheets scented with the bergamot and citrus that she favours, and the tanginess of their sex and spilt seed. Athrun doesn't really blame him.

Almost instinctively, Shinn shakes out a stick, and then offers one to Athrun.

Athrun doesn't smoke, and he actually dislikes the smell of it, but he figures that this is about as right as any time to take Shinn's small offering. He inclines his head in thanks when Shinn moves nearer and lights it for him. Respectfully, Shinn shifts away, giving him space, as if Shinn understands the extent to which he's being tolerated.

"She's beautiful." Shinn says abruptly. "She might be crazy, but she's so, so beautiful. Anyone who has her is lucky - ought to fight to be with her."

"You may be right." Athrun agrees. "I thought so, the first time I met her."

Shinn, for all his comeliness, youth and rash, spirited ways, cannot fathom the extent of love and want Athrun will always carry for her. Shinn will also never really understand why things are the way they are.

But perhaps Shinn senses enough to know that he shouldn't overstay his welcome. He'd told her that he couldn't stay for dinner or any longer, and she hadn't seemed upset by that at all.

Athrun is grateful for that.

Now they inhale comfortably, enjoying the salty air and breeze, and Athrun lets the smoke and menthol settle deep into his lungs. It's a strange feeling, being this calm and detached, limber and completely relaxed, with the effects of after-sex and this cigarette.

They all understand Shinn's place in all of this. Athrun now accepts that it had to be done, and this must now be said.

"If you ever agree to do this again with her," he tells Shinn, casual, and meaning every word, "I'll kill you myself."

X


End file.
